Prompt: Writing Challenge; Where Would You Like To Be In 10 Years?
~I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. I want to build us a house. I want to settle down and grow old with you. I want to die when I'm 110 years old in your arms. I don't want 48 uninterrupted hours. I want a lifetime.~
To me ten years time looks like this:
I will rank as number one neurosurgeon in the world. I'll have cured Alzheimer's and won the Harper Avery Award. Probably more than once. I will still be working at Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital as the Head of Neurosurgery.
I will still be living in the dream house. There'll ideally be a couple of children running around. There will be toys scattered around the floor. I'll come home of an evening and step on the head of a barbie doll or an action figure, and together with my kids we'll perform emergency brain surgery and fix them right up.
Meredith will be there. She'll turn around when she hears the kids gasp at the sound of their beloved toy being crushed under my shoe. She'll be smiling. I know this because I've spent the last ten years of my life dedicating each day to not only medicine, but making her happy. There were rough times, times where I lived up to my nickname 'McAss' and made her upset. I've made her cry, I've slept on the sofa... but I always eventually lived up to my other nickname 'McDreamy' and swept her off of her feet. Nothing will ever take away her bad childhood. Nothing will ever take away the damage done, but it will make it okay, and she'll smile. I won't have let her fall back into being dark and twisty. She will never be totally bright and shiny, but in the past 10 years I'll not have let her down like I have in the past. In the past ten years I've never been anything like Thatcher Grey. I've always fought for her. She knows I'll never stop fighting. She's smiling because her husband loves her, and she's a brilliant surgeon, and she has wonderful children who love her as much as their father does.
We'll have lived in the dream house for ten years. The children will be born and raised there, it's all they'll ever have known as home. They'll grow up having the best of both worlds -- the city and the great outdoors. They won't be on top of cars and fuels and a concrete jungle. They'll be comfortable in the "wilderness" as their mother calls it. I'll have taught our children how to fish. Just as my father taught me. I'll take them to the lake from a young age, and we'll catch trout and I'll tell them stories. I'll tell them about Christopher Shepherd, and how my sons look just like him. My heart will swell and every single day I'll do my up-most to be even half as good a father as mine was. I'll also tell them how much I love their mother. I'll tell them that all the time. How from the first moment I laid eyes on her, she never left my mind. The only thing I'll tell them more than that, is how much I love them. Oh, and probably the phrase: "be careful!"
Once we've finished performing the emergency craniotomy on the toy, eaten, and the kids have bathed and have been put to sleep, Meredith and I will take some time for ourselves once we've finished tidying up the mess. Whilst she's on the phone to her twisted sister, I'll pour her a glass of wine, and myself a glass of scotch. Single malt. Always single malt. It'll be a bottle Mark bought for me no doubt. I'll think of him as I open it. Then Meredith and I will sit down together on the small sofa in the living room opposite the fireplace we call the 'loveseat.' It's just about large enough to fit us both comfortably. I'll wrap an arm around her and we'll discuss our day, and our children, and once we've finished our drinks she'll close her eyes and rest her head on my shoulder. Her answers will get shorter and shorter, and I'll recognize the signs. I'll put the glasses in the sink and we'll go upstairs to sleep. If she's really out of it, I'll carry her up. She gets a lot more tired than she used to, juggling a full time job whilst being the best mother children could ask for tires her out. I'll kiss her goodnight, and can't wait to kiss her good morning. I'll look forward to doing the same thing for the next 10 years, the 10 years after that, and the 10 years after that.
